She is Fire
by KShade
Summary: S6 AU. After "Dead Things" before "As You Were". Buffy wants to feel, Spike loves her, but he's done being used and abused. "She is fire/ Strong and destructive at will/ passionate in her desires/ her beauty greater still." Oneshot, contains violence.


**Hey. This is my version of chilling out while on vacation. Read as: I can't seem to just relax like a normal human being. It's called "help" tentatively. *AU* Set in S6 after some time after "Dead Things"(when Buffy thought she killed Katrina) and before "As You Were" (when Riley showed up and made Buffy realize she was using Spike). She's going to learn it the hard way. This is just starts out as 2000 words of angst. Slowly resolves. M for sex and violence, what else did you expect?**

She slammed him into the wall, taking advantage of her slayer strength. He'd been pissing her off by trying to make her go slow. She had needs, damn it! She wanted to feel, and she was tired of him trying to screw things up. He didn't even have a soul; it wasn't like he could actually love her. He probably just needed her to think that so she'd find a way to un-chip him. It had to be either that, or so he could bite her. His chip didn't work on her anymore.

"Buffy, love-" he started, trying to convince her to just let him love her. He shouldn't be taking this from her. If the bloody bint was so determined she couldn't love him he should just tell her to piss off and keep his pride intact. Yet here he was, being dominated by the slayer. Clearly, Spike didn't get to keep his pride.

Did he just try to deny her? "Shut up!" she ordered, "you can't love. You're a _demon, _Spike. You don't even have a soul," she reminded him, her hand moving to take her shirt off. The faster she could get this done, the better. She was already repulsed with herself, no need to make it worse. She wondered why it had to be Spike that she needed. There was no one that annoyed her like him. Maybe it was just another hellish thing about this world.

Spike pushed her hand off, wanting to do this right for once. "Look, pet, you should go. I don't rightly think I'm in the mood for all this right now," he knew she wouldn't actually leave. He just hoped she wouldn't keep right on going despite his will. A part of his mind registered that that was sick. Buffy couldn't do that, that was rape, if he didn't want it. _This isn't about me though, _he reminded himself darkly, _I doubt she cares how I feel_.

Buffy's tone was mocking, "you want me to _let you rest in peace_?" she punched him, her fist contacting his cheekbone hard enough that it should have broken. There was a look of hurt in his blue eyes, or what would have been. It was probably just from the physical pain. He couldn't feel much beyond that. Certainly not love. _She _had issues with that and she was all soul-ed up. That's why she didn't feel too bad as she slammed him harder against the wall, this time undoing his belt and wondering if she could trap his wrists with it. Then, maybe he wouldn't find a way to give her those light, reverent caresses that made her conscience pang for using him.

Her assaults, both verbal and physical, and her abrupt removal of his belt rendered him speechless. "Buffy, love, not like this," he tried, "please, I've let you drive every other time, just not like this," he begged. He was sick of just shagging her. As poncey as it sounded, he wanted to make love to her, or at least do something that didn't resemble assault.

"So," she taunted him, "how do you want it then, Spike? Do you want me to do this?" she took her shirt off, "maybe you want me to just trust you and hope you don't drain me?" she offered. He started to speak, but she cut him off, "I said _shut up_!" she silenced him herself, with a searing kiss. She kissed him roughly, exerting her control over him with her lips and tongue as she forced it past his lips.

Spike couldn't believe that she didn't trust him a little more than that by now. He'd tried to correct her on it, but she'd silenced him with her lips. He refused to play this game. Or, he thought he would until she played dirty, grabbing his cock though his pants. He moaned against the harsh confines of her mouth. She bit his lip savagely, sucking it into her mouth. As she did that, she started to stroke him, exerting far more pressure than was necessary. She wasn't going to give him any indication that he meant anything to her. All he meant to her was a good fuck. Or so she insisted, in spite of the small part of her that felt… something. She wondered if that was why _he _made her feel.

Spike felt her hands on him, bordering on painful. He moaned her name against her lips, and she smirked, replacing her hand with her body, after hastily disrobing. He started to crouch down, doing it slowly, so she could stop him if that wasn't what she wanted. She nodded, and he immediately dropped down to his knees. She threaded her hands into his hair, pushing his head in towards her. Spike could smell how turned on she was.

Buffy gasped as she felt the vampire's cold tongue come into contact with her heated flesh. That gasp eventually became a moan as he continued his merciless attack on her clit. Not to mention, when they did it this way, it meant she didn't have to hear him. All she needed was a declaration of love to ruin the moment.

"God, I love you, slayer," he murmured against her flesh as she was about to hit her climax. He knew she would be angry, he just wished she'd finally believe him.

She pulled harder on his hair, signalling her displeasure. She still came, but it wasn't as good when her conscience had to deal with more than just the revulsion she felt at sleeping with Spike. Now, he had to add guilt. Even though she was pretty sure he couldn't love, a little part of her felt a pang at using someone who at least thought they felt that strongly about her. Once she came down from the ecstasy that he'd caused her, she pulled him to his feet. "No, you don't," she reminded him, "you can't love. You're just a soulless thing."

He knew he had no soul. She'd told him enough times that reminding him had lost its effect, "I love you, regardless of my lack of soul, you stupid bint," he responded, knowing she would hurt him. He hoped not too severely, or he'd be out of commission for a bit. Wouldn't be able to kill any demons. He met her green eyes, trying to convey what she wouldn't believe in words. Her eyes just hardened, as though dispelling anything he was trying to convey.

She slammed her fist into his face, "do you love me now, Spike?" before he could respond, she drove her fist into his chin, hard enough that it propelled him up ever so slightly. "Like I said, you're in love with pain, admit it." He started to get up from where he'd fallen, and she kicked him again, keeping him down. Speaking to herself now as she continued her physical assault on her lover, she continued, "you always choose the worst people, Buffy. You and vamps are supposed to be un-mix-y. Why the hell is it that you need him to feel?" she dealt a particularly vicious kick to Spike.

"I have him. Or, I have to, right? Vamp, no soul, that means no love," he got up and she rounded on him, this time moving fast, a volley of fists and feet. "But I have a soul, and I barely feel like I can love any more. Maybe I left that in heaven." Spike gave her a sort of gaping look and she viciously pushed him against the wall, embarrassed for having narrated her issues out. Maybe if she hit him hard enough, he'd forget. It was worth a shot.

Spike felt battered as he tried to deflect Buffy's fists. He already knew this night was going to end in her knocking him unconscious and leaving him there. Enough was enough though. He pushed her away from him, "you're bloody insane, pet. You think you can barge in here and use me. I'm not a bloody _toy, _slayer. I'm not here for you to play with and break for your entertainment. If I can't have all of you, then you can _sod off_." He advanced on her, throwing her across the room.

Buffy landed on the other side of the basement of Spike's crypt, staring at Spike in shock. It was rare that he did anything to stop her, so a part of her acknowledged that she'd hurt him. "Spike," she said, not knowing what to follow it with. She looked at him, seeing the tears in his clothing from her nails, all the scratching and bruising. _Only a monster could do that_, her mind whispered solemnly. She broke down. She was hurting everyone. Willow had been drowning and she hadn't noticed. Dawnie had almost died. Now she was hurting the only person she could stand to be around.

"Oh god," was all that came out of her mouth as her thoughts wrapped around her. Spike had done nothing but help her, and she'd done everything in her power to hurt him. She'd brutalized him today, but she realized that was nothing. They fought all the time. Hurting each other that way didn't really last. Vampire healing and Slayer healing took it away pretty fast. It was the degrading she'd done, verbally that concerned her. She'd called him worthless, a soulless thing fit to be her possession. Like he'd astutely pointed out, a toy, fit to be used and abused. She didn't deserve to feel if she was getting off on hurting him.

He saw that she was breaking down, and ventured over to comfort her; he was cautious in case it was a trap. Her eyes met his when he was half way there, and he saw the agony reflected in them. "Buffy?" he asked softly, wondering if something she'd said to herself had struck too close to home. It wasn't like her to cry. He just wanted to make it okay.

Buffy felt exponentially worse when she heard the concern in Spike's voice. She'd been treating him like a monster and here he was, ready to comfort his abuser. Wishing she could just disappear, or teleport out or something, she curled in on herself, feeling weak and disgusted with herself. She felt more like a _thing_ than she' considered Spike. "I think the good part of me is still there," she whispered, knowing Spike's vampire hearing would pick it up. She wished he'd mock her, hit her, to something to stoop to her level, so she wouldn't feel so awful.

Spike crept to the spot where she lay in the crypt, wrapping his arms around her, barely even perceiving that she was still naked. "No, love. It's natural for you to fight me. I'm a vampire, remember? Grr, argh. You're still you. It may seem like everything's harder now, because it is. You've got the bloody right to screw things up, you were pulled out of heaven. You're still good. You saved the little bit when she almost ended up as the demon's bride. Walked through the fire and all," he looked at her for a moment, hoping his words got through to her. "The minute the best of you passes on, you come dust me. A world without you to defend it isn't going to be a good world."

Buffy cried harder at the nice words from Spike. This was the man she'd called a soulless, disgusting thing. "Spike—William, I can't do this. I'm hurting you. All I've been doing is hurting you. You've been so good to me, and I've just been awful to you. I haven't even treated you like a person, much less like one that got me through everything you did. I should go. I can't be the woman you deserve, William," she got up and started dressing, feeling broken. How blind had she been to the way he was helping her?

Spike was shocked by her admission, and the use of his human name. She'd called him _William _and treated him like a person. She'd even admitted to hurting him. Like it was wrong. "Buffy," he strode down to her, "you can do this, love. If anyone can, it's you. If you need me you can have me, I'll stay here for you. There's a lot of bad between us, but we can get through it. Do you want to get through it, love?" he asked, praying that she'd say yes.

Buffy couldn't believe he would offer her a second chance. Maybe she was wrong about vampires not being able to love, maybe not; she had been wrong about Spike though. Maybe she could re-learn how to love from him. "Yes, Spike," she said softly.

They spent the next few hours just enjoying each other's company. They talked, lay together, watched TV. Buffy tended Spike's wounds (despite his protests that he was fine!) After Buffy excused herself, knowing Dawn would be looking for her by now, Spike felt a strange urge come over him. He sat down, procuring himself paper and a pen.

"_She is fire  
Strong and destructive at will  
passionate in her desires  
her beauty greater still_

_Than the heavens where she did reside  
and, should she tread at night  
I shall be ever by her side  
her ally every fight_

_She is truly effulgent  
forever diamond-strong  
my every moment with her indulgent  
Buffy, vanquisher of wrong_

_She is fire  
glowing in the candle-light  
She is all I could desire  
I pray she can find a respite._"

Spike read over what he'd scrawled down in disbelief. "She's turned me into a bloody ponce!" he muttered.

**So, less angsty than she-of-the-post-breakup was expecting to produce (well, it was 3-4 weeks ago, but still!). Um, I hope the poem was alright… I'm a freeverse girl, rhymes are my kryptonite. This was written in Ramona California. So uh, yeah. Maybe not my best. Hell of a lot better than my one year ago writing, which I read. Sigh. KShade signing out.**


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